Death Running Through Your Veins
by MNMmie
Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was. Kind of dark, deals with self harm/cutting. Don't like, don't read. Rating T/M. Complete.
1. Gibbs' Mistake

Title: Death Running Through Your Veins

Disclaimer: I own NCIS... Yeah right, would be nice if I could put that above my stories, don't you think?

Spoilers: If you have not yet seen any episode of season 7, then it has spoilers.

Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was.

Rating: Mainly T, but stays closely to M.

Warnings: Deals with self harm/cutting. So the story gets quite dark every now and then.

A/N: Reposted all of the chapters after revising them. Reviews are still very much appreciated. Enjoy reading

**Chapter one: Gibbs' mistake**

Somalia had been tough on all of them. He knew his team, he saw it. And he definitely realized that Ziva was not alright. She was good at fooling people.

DiNozzo and McGee just took it, but not everyone was as easy going as they were. When Ducky had talked to him about her, he had said nothing new, he already realized Ziva hid more than she showed. The conversation they had in his basement had shown that clearly. And when she was forced to tell about what happened on the Damocles, he saw that she was hiding. Something, everything.

He hated Eli David for what he had made of his daughter, a ruthless, soulless killer. He had seen in Ziva's eyes, even before she told him, that Somalia had destroyed her. The feeling of death in her heart came out through her eyes. Ziva breaking down in front of him proofed his thoughts, but he could not do anything, she would never let him.

He had no choice, but to let it be. He could do a lot, only unfortunately not everything: forcing a former-Mossad officer to talk about things she purposely hid from everyone, was one of those things.

After some weeks he realized she was not going home after work, unless he stayed that long that she had no choice. Abby also told him about it, and it made him think; if there was really nothing he should do, if he really had to accept it: shouldn't he be the boss and force her to go home? He decided not.

Sometimes he saw her facades coming down, than he could see a little of the destroyed Ziva, but either DiNozzo or McGee would always comment on her behavior and force her to rebuild those protective walls quickly. A ninja was never to show distress.

After a few weeks it seemed to get a little better, her cheerfulness came back and the long absent teasing between Tony and Ziva returned. He should have known better than to let himself be fooled by it, but he let it happen. Only hoping it was for real.

The first time he saw the flash of pain upon her face after jumping up, when he told them to gear up, he thought nothing of it and later he realized that he also had not seen every wince of pain, that clearly had been present every time she stood up.

Some months after her return he realized that on crime scenes she was working through her pain, when bending down it was clear she fought it back, trying not to let show. Stupid as it later seemed, he kept his mouth shut and did nothing more than watch.

Slowly he saw the fake-but-cheerful Ziva fall down again. The resumed teasing, that he had secretly welcomed, disappeared again. Ziva looked more death that ever before, but just said she had some trouble sleeping. DiNozzo and McGee bought it again, and after pushing a little further he also had to let it be, she did not give him anything.

The day she came in limping did not even crossed his mind as a sign of crashing down until much later, when it was too late. The stairs up to her apartment where simply horrible, even he had almost tripped the first time he walked them.

His Ziva kept falling, he saw, everyone saw; she was not alright. But he was the only one who did not ask, he noticed her mood dropping immediately when someone asked about. He noticed the looks of unease cross her face when the question was brought up again. She did not want the have the questions asked, so he did not ask them. This time he was naïve enough to think it was because of the date: it was about a year ago that Saleem had overpowered Ziva.

Against his expectations that it would slowly get better after that date passed, it only seemed to get worse. He noticed the long sleeves while it was mid-summer, and somewhere deep inside his gut told him things where very wrong; he decided to give himself one week to find out more, after that he would ask.

He watched her closely and now he did see the small, angry red lines coming from under her tucked down sleeves when she reached for a file, he saw the small smear of blood on her hand when she returned from the toilet. Having almost all the pieces now, he put the puzzle together before even half of the day had passed. Why had he not seen it earlier?

He realized he could no longer wait to talk to her, but Vance picked exactly that moment to order him down to his office. Refusing to come was made impossible, as Vance had decided to come down to get him personally.

That day, when he had been in the directors office, Tony had looked up at Ziva and asked her about a bloodstain on her sleeve. When he returned and DiNozzo told him what he had seen, how they had fought and that Ziva had ran away almost immediately, he knew he had waited too long.

He yelled at DiNozzo, for not being more thoughtful on how to bring the subject up, as Ziva's problems rising had been crystal clear to all of them the weeks before. Could he not have been more subtle?

He silently cursed himself, for being so blind for so long, for letting it get this far, for letting Ziva get away with it, instead of him being his usual self; then he would have made her talk months earlier. Trying to protect her from the pain of her memories he had decided not to do that, how could he have been so stupid?

The ride to Ziva's apartment took no more than ten minutes, but when Ziva did not answer the door, he feared for what she might have done, he feared for her live.  
One kick cracked the lock, letting him into the apartment.


	2. Ziva's Pain

Title: Death Running Through Your Veins

Disclaimer: I own NCIS... Yeah right, would be nice if I could put that above my stories, don't you think?

Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was.

Warnings: Deals with self harm/cutting.

**Chapter two: Ziva's pain**

Somalia haunted her, everything Saleem had said and done to her played in her head, over and over again. She told Gibbs some bits and pieces, and then choose to hide it. Because as much as she tried to put it in behind her, it still affected her, worse than she told anyone.

But she was good at hiding, even the shrink, that Vance had sent her to, had not noticed anything.  
That gave her some breath, because, with her status cleared, she would be aloud to work, something she still liked very much; when busy with a case, and Gibbs chasing after the team to work faster she could forget, a little.

The hours she worked where extreme, but no one really knew. She actually clocked out, if others were still there she sometimes even pretended to leave, only instead of going home, she would come back to stay a little longer and do more work. It kept her mind busy. When Gibbs left late, she simply said she had to finish something up, that really could not wait. She usually stayed until at least midnight.

Although she would feel horribly, she would play her role; she was as cheerful as she always was.  
When she momentarily forgot to pretend, she would immediately notice, then Tony or McGee would start asking if she was alright. She would lie, 'Just tired, really', and they would leave it alone.

Abby noticed some things, occasionally a night with late hours, that she was not always feeling perfectly fine, but she would never see the whole picture, just blamed it on Ziva having to get used to being back again.

Ducky asked, and did clearly not believe it when she told him she was fine, but just let her be after that.

Gibbs seemed to notice nothing, he said nothing, he did nothing. Not after their conversation in his basement and her 'confession' in the interrogation room.

If she really left, when Gibbs was staying too late and sent her home or if she really could not stay any longer, she would break down. She would cry and scream at the empty rooms of her new apartment; she would be haunted by Saleem. All the memories that never disappeared, Saleem seemed to be everywhere and she still had only death in her heart.

She was weak, she knew it; trained by Mossad to be a ruthless, soulless killer, as Gibbs had said it, and still not able to get out of Saleems hands without being troubled by it. It just proofed what Saleem had told her, she was useless, not capable of anything but being weak. He beat it into her, he had taken over control on everything; telling her what she already knew: if you loose control you're nothing.

There was one thing she soon noticed, the beatings and physical torture were something horrible at first, it caused too much pain, so much more than she was trained to endure. But soon that pain was the only way being able not to think. Saleem noticed it, and after that he would just beat her up for show, but took more and more control over everything, which definitely hurt her more.  
After a longer period of time she really no longer wanted to life through it, maybe she once had been strong enough, but no anymore. This time she had lost, everything.

Now in her new apartment she had regained control over most parts of her live, but it was no longer enough. She needed more to block Saleem out of her mind, where he still ruled her thoughts; she needed the pain she had gotten used to over time. The pain he made her go through soon seemed the only way to completely forget.

She was in the shower after work one day, trying to wash away a day filled with memories of Somalia and Saleem, and she had started to shave her legs when the razor slipped. The pain she felt was sharp and clear, and while watching the blood tickle down her leg, Saleem disappeared from her mind. Just for a short period of time, as the pain soon faded; then Saleem returned.

She managed to get one of the razors loose and dragged it over her leg again, seeing new blood appear and tickle down her leg calmed her. The hot water stung, and Saleem was nowhere to be found. After drying, the wound had already closed, but it the tingling stings stayed for a little while.

She dressed into a loose fitting pajama's, and she was even able to fall asleep. That night she had the nightmares she had every night, but if she woke up and felt her leg sting, she would forget a little bit better than before.

Being cheerful at work was a little easier too, but the memories had already returned into her head. When Gibbs told them to go home, she went. She wanted nothing more than to feel the blade of that razor breaking her skin again, but had the patience to wash her hair first, before she sat down, the water still running.

At first, still a little doubtful of her next action, she just played with the knife, but soon found herself dragging the razor over her leg again. Not just once, but over and over again, turning her leg and the water a sickly shade of yellow and red. All the memories of Saleem and the irritations of her own weakness that came along with him, disappeared again.

Her leg was sore, and getting up was a bit harder than sitting down, as the cuts hurt her more badly than the day before. But the haunting memories were gone, that was all that mattered. She was even able to sleep four hours straight, without waking up from some horrible nightmare.

That little bit of extra sleep was just what she needed, the next day she was not as tired from the lack of it, the memories were kind of fainted. When her mind returned to Saleem, she would just, accidentally on purpose, hit her leg against a open drawer or a table leg. By night Somalia had completely returned into her mind, but this time she knew exactly what to do. She did not even shower first, she just took the razor and ran it over her leg again, reopening the cuts of the day before.

For some weeks it helped, but hurting yourself is not a solution, as she soon found out. Saleem returned, worse than before. As she knew that the cutting was a bad thing, Saleem was acting as her conscience, constantly throwing at her that she was weak, the pain she needed proofed it. That she was stupid trying to forget him, stupid that she could not forget him and had not been able to fight him off, back in Somalia and now in her head. Saleem was in control, and she had lost again.

Even though it were her own thoughts, the image of Saleem telling it her made everything worse.  
He confirmed what she was already convinced of, and that was all the proof she needed to believe that it was indeed the truth.

Being the cheerful one at work was getting harder, the pain in her leg did just push Saleem back a bit, it did no longer made him disappear. The cuts became deeper, and she could no longer live without the pain. It was not to forget Somalia anymore, it had become a part of her, something she simply could not stop.

One day she cut up her leg that bad, that she could barely put any weight upon it; she tried to walk as naturally as always, but still visibly limbed.

Of course her coworkers saw it this time, but she was still a good liar. And, how convenient, they all knew the horrible staircase leading up to her apartment. Making them believe she tripped on a step was fairly easy.

At night her leg still hurt too much to really touch it, but she needed to cut, she needed new pain. Her other leg was out of the question; it already had cuts on it and she could not risk hurting that leg as badly as the other, limping with two legs was too obvious. She decided on her hips, as she was not yet used to the feeling of the stinging pain that came with the razorblade breaking her skin there, the pain was more intense, pushing Saleem further back than he had been for a while.  
With both her legs and hips cut up, it could do nothing else but escalade, she knew but let it be. No longer caring, why would she?

Being cheerful was becoming impossible, and everyone saw, everyone noticed. The only thing that they did not know was that every time they asked, it just got worse. Although she needed them, she pushed them away; as far as possible: no one was to know her secret of being so incredibly weak. She could not bring herself to put off the mask of being tough, she had already lifted it too far.

The day she first cut her arms, was the day a year after Saleems first started to torture her. But even faint half-scarred cuts are difficult to hide, if not impossible, when everyone around you is already watching you very closely. And the cuts she made on her arms were not small, within days they spread out over the complete length of her lower arm, from elbow to wrist. Long sleeves were clearly noticed by everyone, with summer coming up and temperatures rising.

Having gone so far and for so long, it was an impossibility to stop it herself. She needed help badly, and really soon too, she knew but was afraid to ask. The whole team would have caught her, but she fell alone.

The razor went with her, wherever she would go. At first its presence was enough, it made her feel somewhat save, but then she also started cutting at work.

The day she cut almost to deep, and did not get the wound to close completely, Tony saw the growing bloodstain on her sleeve first. She panicked, yelled at him, pushed him away and ran, away from help and safety, arms to catch her. Even with her inside screaming for everything he and the team would have been able to give, she could not bring herself to accepting it.

She went home and locked the doors, completely stressing, barely registering what she was doing. This time the cuts followed the veins on her wrists, the cuts were deep and there was definitely too much blood.

She heard the knocking on her door, the voices, but it all sounded far away and she did no longer have the strength to get up. She felt cold, and slowly let herself fall back in the warming darkness that was trying to surround her.


	3. Gibbs' Care

Title: Death Running Through Your Veins

Disclaimer: I own NCIS... Yeah right, would be nice if I could put that above my stories, don't you think?

Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was.

Warnings: Deals with self harm/cutting.

**Chapter three: Gibbs' care**

It was kind of strange, Somalia had been horrible, but back home it had not really troubled him. Only now, finally seeing what it had really done with Ziva it bothered him.

When he had knocked down the door, he had spotted her immediately. The small, but sharp razor still lay in her hand, blood, a lot of it, pooled her arms. He had not yet been able to shake off the feelings he had felt when he rushed over to her, the shame of letting her go this far without seeing it; the strange feeling of guilt as if he had killed her himself. She had been cold.

It left him with nightmares, which was not really something for him, he never had real nightmares. Well, he used to have them a long time ago, mostly about Shannon and Kelly, but they had really died. And Ziva was still alive. But he had been convinced when he saw all that blood, that she too had died; he felt as if she had died. All his nightmares started in Somalia and ended with Ziva dead.

In the hospital they had told him that if he had been only ten minutes later it indeed had been too late, but he had been just on time and saved her live. The first few hours had yet been filled with insecurity; Ziva had lost a great amount of blood and no doctor could guarantee her life to the waiting team.

All those feelings of loss, shame and guilt, they took a lot of his energy. He still did not really sleep, he was to be found in his basement almost every night. His days he spend at work and in the hospital.

As soon as Ziva was awake and began to feel better it was an impossibility to keep her in a place she hated almost more than Somalia. The doctors wanted to force her into therapy, something Ziva would never allow, and her stressing over it did not really make things better.

When the doctors finally saw that she'd be better off at home and let her go, she insisted on going to her own place; something he did not want to give into, but after a heated argument with Ziva becoming very angry, he gave her a chance.

He also aloud her to start working again, as there would be no way of keeping her away from NCIS. Although he saw that it took some effort to deal with the others constantly looking at her and treating her as if she was a brittle as glass, he also saw some relieve. It clearly kept her mind occupied and she looked indeed a little better.

She was still very closed up, but when he brought her home from the hospital she had told him that she had scared herself: she had lost control over her own actions and realized she needed some help to learn to deal with Somalia. But she still was Ziva, they both realized she would not actually find that help. Pushing her only seemed to upset her, so he let the matter rest a little. But he had learned, and he was not crazy; she could no longer fool him with her pretended happiness. Letting her work was his excuse to be able to watch her very closely.

He saw her next break down coming before she did, the whole day she had been unable to focus and she could not hide the tears in the corners of her eyes as she tried to keep her attention to her work, something she failed miserably at. That night when he heard her sit down on top of the stairs leading into his basement he was relieved. She had just spared him from a new nightmare.

She just sat there and from the corners of his eyes he saw there were some bloodstains on her shirt, but nothing to bad. He kept sanding his boat, pretending he did not notice she was there, even though they both knew he did. After some more minutes he looked up and he was a bit startled to see tears rolling down her face, as for every other person he would had thought it was strange that there were not more tears.

After putting down his sanding paper, he walked past her into the house. When he came back he saw she had not moved an inch, but there were more tears. He set something down and sat down next to her. She seemed completely numb, just sitting there staring at the wall opposite of her. He gentle took her arm to check on the damage she had done to herself. Over the healing scars on her wrist and older scars on her lower arms where several new cuts, which started bleeding again when he pulled up her sleeves. She did not even flinch, while he was certain it hurt. He cleaned the wounds with the antiseptic he had brought with him and carefully bandaged her arm, and then did the same to the other arm which was hurt slightly worse.

Tears started to fall from her eyes more rapidly as she pulled her sleeves down again over her hands. He had trouble hearing her whispered _-Thank you-_, but it put a little smile on his face. He saw the tiredness of a lot more than just a day of work enter her eyes, that started to flutter. He lifted her up and carried her to a spare bedroom, surprised by the fact that she seemed to weight almost nothing. She was already half asleep when he put her on the bed, dressing her in one of his shirts. Hoping she would finally get a good night of sleep, he sat down in a chair in the corner, not wanting to leave her. Watching her sleep he slowly felt sleep come over him as well, and for a change allowed himself to give in.


	4. Ziva's Day

Title: Death Running Through Your Veins

Disclaimer: I own NCIS... Yeah right, would be nice if I could put that above my stories, don't you think?

Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was.

Warnings: Deals with self harm/cutting.

**Chapter four: Ziva's day**

She woke up slowly when the sun came through the curtains, and the first thing she realized was that she had slept relatively well. Keeping her eyes closed she thought about it; she had been awake that night, woken up by her regular nightmares, but somehow she had been able to fall asleep again every time, which was very unusual.

Shaking off a little more of the sleepy feelings and opening her eyes, she noticed she was not in her own bedroom, not even in her own apartment. The seemingly always present panic started rising quickly. The sun so high up in the sky also meant she was late for work, something was definitely wrong. She was not supposed to be here. Suddenly she started laughing out loud over her own ridiculous thoughts, nothing was wrong, she had slept here before. And Gibbs meant safety not danger.

He had just been out of the room for a few minutes when he heard her laugh.  
_'What's so funny?'_ He leaned against the doorpost. It silently pleased him to see her laughing, she hadn't done that much the past year, why had he not realized that before?  
_'Nothing actually.'_ She sat up with a smile; slightly, but visibly, wincing when she put her weight upon one of her arms. He walked to the closet to find her a shirt to wear, as he had thrown out the bloodied shirt she had worn last night.  
'_Wear this. And come down for breakfast.'_ He walked away again.

After breakfast Gibbs drove them to the headquarters. She sat annoyed, but quietly in the passenger seat, knowing the real reason why he hadn't let her drive her own car there: now she was forced to go with him after work again. The shirt he had given her was quite big on her small frame, but she kept some spare clothing at work, so she would redress there.

When the elevator doors opened, she knew it immediately: today was going to be hard on her.  
Tony already had that look in his eyes, he was in one of his bully moods. As if he could read her mind he started throwing little pieces of a old eraser to McGee.

Gibbs was already sitting at his desk, scolding at Tony to stop and brief him in on the case they had been working on, a marine killed over an USB with still unknown content. She slowly sat down behind her own desk, realizing she had nothing to tell Gibbs, she had not been able to do anything at all yesterday.

Her mood had been alright while at Gibbs' place and after arriving here it had still been reasonable, but now it came crashing down on her. Tears started to come up in her eyes and she angrily shook her head, no. Crying was ridiculous, he would not mind if she told him she had nothing… If only she could believe her own lies. She could feel Gibbs looking at her when she started open her mail and she was grateful that Ducky chose that moment to phone him down.

Why could she not focus? What was wrong with her… Ever since she left the hospital she had been fine, ignoring memories, not cutting at all. Until yesterday, for no clear reason. Her mind kept wandering off, while she answered a few emails and tried to ignore Tony who was making comments on her looks today.

'_David! Got anything?'_ She jumped at the sound of his voice and his hands coming in contact with her desk. Shaking her head, she inwardly cursed herself and turned away from his face. She was such a disaster, in his worried eyes she only saw disappointment. She imagined it probably, but for a second his eyes were Saleems. His malicious grin, she had been useless, she was useless. That stare she deserved, she definitely was not worth anything. She would just need to cut, than everything would go away.

Looking around she saw everyone had left, they clearly had no need for her to be around. Fingering the knife she still kept in her desk drawer, she decided a few new cuts would not bring anymore harm to her and she slowly walked towards the toilettes.

While Ziva had kept turning her anger and frustration against herself, she had not noticed all of them simply leaving to interview their brought in suspect, as Ziva had not reacted to anything either of them had said.

Letting Tony start the interview, making the guy sweat a little, Gibbs just watched. He followed everything that was being said, but his mind still was with Ziva upstairs. He had already told her to leave, go home, twice, but she did not seem to register anything. His cell phone rang: Abby.

In her lab he absently listened to her rambling on about the computer stuff-like evidence finalizing their suspicions on their current suspect. He noticed McGee automatically translating the words he knew Gibbs would not understand, but he barely registered any of it. This was highly unusual for him as he normally always listened to Abby, she deserved that. He tried to focus on Abby, knowing that he must have missed something important as she was looking expectantly at him.  
_'Gibbs? Have you heard anything of what I just told you?'_ Shaking his head he told her to summarize her findings.

Although she was still agitated, she felt better when she sat behind her desk again. The bandages around her arms she removed, even though she had not made a single scratch there. She slightly regretted removing them, as it brought some comfort when moving her arms. But she also did not really mind the stinging sensation from yesterdays cuts.

She pulled up the case file again and started reading, it all seemed as if she saw this for the first time. Also she vaguely remembered Gibbs yelling that they had a suspect brought in. Slowly she started to notice something: with all the technical talk concerning the USB and plans for hacking an navy base computer system it was unlikely that their current suspect had done everything alone, as he had no real education or any interest in computers. He just wanted the information of the computers, but he could have never laid his hand on it alone, he could not have done this without help.

Ten minutes later she was in the observation room, watch Gibbs break the suspect, who gave up his partner just minutes later. She felt Tony walking up behind her.  
_'Didn't know your were still capable of doing anything except staring!'_ His mean, but to anyone else joking, voice whispered. She froze for a second, it was too much. Although the cutting released some of her stress and frustration, those feelings had not left her at all. Within a second he was on the floor, knife to his throat. Looking in her eyes, he knew his mistake and lay completely still, not daring to move.

He had heard the commotion, he immediately walking out of the interrogation, he already had his needed information. Seeing DiNozzo held down by her, made a little spark of humor appear in his eyes, although he realized Ziva was quite a danger when she looked the way she did now. When he took the knife from her, a single tear slid down her cheeks. Telling McGee and DiNozzo to wrap up the case, he took her home with him.


	5. Gibbs' Help

Title: Death Running Through Your Veins

Disclaimer: I own NCIS... Yeah right, would be nice if I could put that above my stories, don't you think?

Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was.

Warnings: Deals with self harm/cutting.

**Chapter five: Gibbs' help**

'_I should not have done that, I am sorry, I knew he was joking… It was just too much. I could not have it anymore, I lost it… I lost control, again. Why do I always loose control, I need it. I is all my fault…_'  
He let her ramble on the way back to his house. Although he did not like her blaming herself for everything, and especially her own behavior, he listened. At least she talked, so he could finally learn some things about how Ziva had felt for over the past year  
'_Everyone is saying it you know, especially within Mossad… They no longer believe in me, they…_'  
He opened her door, '_Come out of the car, Ziva_'.

After he took her inside, he forced her to eat something. Clearly, she had not eaten properly in quite some time, it troubled her. It stung him when she started muttering things again.  
_'I do not deserve this, I am not worth it… I…_'  
He watched her, because when she came down to the interrogation room at work she had seemed alright again. But seeing her first in the car and now again, he did not know how she had ever looked that way. She was completely broken.

When he finally gave up on feeding her, he took her down to the basement.  
_'Talk._' He said, sitting down on the stairs next to her.  
'_Gibbs, I… I am sorry, but I can not do that. I do not know…_'  
'_Yes, you do._' He looked at her closely, then he saw it.  
'_Start with the scars on your neck._'  
'_Jethro, no… I…_' A lonely tear rolled down her cheek again. He sighed.  
'_Ziver, listen to me. You may not want to talk to me, but you have to. I should have made you do that a year ago. I wanted to protect you from the memories, a mistake. And now you talk. You need to._' His voice left no room for debate.

'_Those scars… I think I hate them most. After Saleem captured me, it took him some time to realize he could not break me. The first day he did not even realize who had sent me, made no link to Mossad, as they had covered my face. My necklace was not visible. He only saw a woman, a girl… Someone to break within ten minutes. The cuts in my neck were the first he made, after his not-yet-killed men had kicked me around. I did not even feel the cuts until later, when they started to heel._' She stopped, swallowed. She was shaking, it was clear that she feared the other things she was going to tell. Or maybe she feared his reaction more.

'_I counted them, once. My scars, I stopped at a hundred. I realized not all scars are visible, some have disappeared, others never have been visible and never will._

_Cutting me until I was completely covered in blood, hitting me until I cried out, needles under my nails, choking me until I passed out, whipping me until I could no longer stand upright… When Saleem had seen my necklace everything was aloud. Causing way to many scars, although at that time I did not care at all._

_When he did make the link to Mossad, he knew I would be hard to break, but also that I had information that had value for him. So he tried, just for his pride. He tortured me for days, I think, before I was first brought to a different room, my room, no cell… It was as bad as that sounds. But that was all physically, it was worse and more than I was trained to endure, but I menaced. Him being completely in control was what made me give up, at Mossad you learn one thing: be in control, or everything is lost._' By now she was crying, digging her nails into her arms. He put his arm around her shoulder, but let her attack the healing wounds. She needed it to keep on going.

'_Whatever he did, he did not break me. He took over everything, sleep, food, light, darkness, pain, humiliation… I could not shield myself from anything, but I did not break. I just gave up. I hoped he would one day slip with his knife or kick me a little to hard, I hoped I would die. But I did not give him any information, not even about who I was. He knew I was Mossad, he did not know he had the director's daughter, I had no name._

_I hoped that one day he would give up on me, declare me worthless and kill me. But he did not, maybe if I had been a man, yes. But I was not._' A long pause, there where little blood drops coming from the wounds on her arms, tickling down to drip on her clothes. But still he just hold her, silently happy she still let him at least do that. It also surprised him as he could guess the next part of what she would tell him.

'_That I was a woman is the only reason I am still alive, because I was the only woman… Most men had been without one for months… And having one around made it easy to keep them calm. Except when Saleem was with me, or when I was being tortured, they where aloud to walk into my room whenever they wanted to. I was always tied up, even when I was in a locked up room without windows, but with guards outside in the hallway. Because of those ties there was… There was nothing I could do, no way to resist. No control, exactly the way Saleem wanted it._' For the first time Ziva looked up and into his eyes.

'_I did not believe anyone would save me, I thought that there was no one in this world that would ever take the trouble of rescuing me. I had betrayed you, NCIS. I had already figured I no longer was of any value to Mossad…Why would anyone have a reason to save me. I know you where there to take revenge on Saleem, not to rescue me. Maybe that is even better than saving me, but I never believed someone would do anything like that for me._

_I have always been taught that one live is worthless, that people are worthless, that I… That I am worthless. I did not know any better, and Saleem did not make me feel any different._' With that she shook off his arm and stood up, walking over to the boat in the middle of the basement she wrapped her own arms around herself.  
'_Ziva…_' Actually he did not quite know yet what he was going to say. But DiNozzo solved that problem for him.

'_Boss, I…_' He had started talking before he had even reached the basement, but one look into the room made him shut up immediately. Ziva with her back to him was clearly crying, while a single drop of blood made its down from her finger to the ground. Gibbs' face was enough to make him take two quick steps back.  
'_Tomorrow, now go!'_ Gibbs barked, almost unnecessarily as Tony was already practically running back to the front door. After hearing it slamming shut, Gibbs sighed.


	6. Ziva's Guilt

Title: Death Running Through Your Veins

Disclaimer: I own NCIS... Yeah right, would be nice if I could put that above my stories, don't you think?

Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was.

Warnings: Deals with self harm/cutting.

**Chapter six: Ziva's guilt**

Walking over to Ziva he saw something small and shiny in her hand. She smiled shakily when she heard him stop in the middle of his tracks, when he realized what it was.  
'_I did not do anything, I just… This is what you want to hear next, is it not?_' He started shaking his head.  
'_Not tonight, not now, Ziva. Enough is enough._'  
'_You do not understand, I have to go on now. Otherwise you will never know._' He hesitantly nodded.

She sat down against the nearest wall, razorblade still in hand. She kept turning it over, and over, while he leaned against the boat and watched.  
_'You know how many nights I sat like this? Just holding this little knife? I knew from the beginning that what I was doing was wrong. Just human-logic. You do not harm yourself, it is not naturally. But I did it anyway. I would go crazy if I did not cut, the days I tried I felt like screaming, crying, like I just wanted to destroy everything in my life, this world. I could not life without the pain. _

_The first time was an accident, I slipped while shaving my legs. It emptied my mind, made me forget everything that happened, Saleem, Somalia… It gave me peace, so I did it again, this time on purpose. And again the next day and the next, and almost everyday after that. I had no reason and no possibility to stop. I was too weak, and out of control._'  
She was shaking again, but swallowing she continued without looking up to Gibbs.

'_It was everything, my support, my life. It helped me if I could not sleep, it helped me getting through the day. Most of all, it helped me ignore my scars. I made my own scars, hiding the ones Saleem and his men left. It made me forget about how they touched me, everything they had done. But like I said, not all scars are visible on the outside. No matter what I did, it was never enough_.'  
'_Ziva, please… Stop._' His voice lacked determination, he could not hold it steady. Her answer was a shake of her head. She pulled her knees up to her chest and went on.

'_Although I thought about it once or twice, I have never really done it with the intension to kill myself. I just wanted to get rid of Saleem. As at first it did just that, but that stopped all too soon. By then I would cut just for the cutting and for the pain, a desperate try to forget._'  
By now she was holding the razor in still, no longer turning it over, staring intensely at it.

'_I desperately wanted help, I did not want to do it anymore, I wanted everyone to see it…  
But no one was to know about it, because I did not want that, I did not want to stop. And I felt guilty, so guilty… I did not want to admit that to anyone. But still, I hoped you would see… Somehow I felt like you could save me, but you did not. _

_Then Tony saw, he would not leave it alone and I panicked. I did not think clearly, so I did the most unreasonable thing in an attempt to hide my secret. Stupidly enough, I did not want to die, but still I cut my wrists, knowing what would happen. When I woke up, I was relieved, but scared. I was scared of what I could do to myself, showing that all over again: I had lost even the smallest bit of control I once had._'  
Her talking became more like rambling, as if she was not able to stop talking again.

'_I hate myself, for what I did, what I do. For letting Saleem get to me. It is all my fault, I have done everything wrong, everything. At first after I cut my wrists, being scared kept me from cutting again, until yesterday. I do not know why, I do not know what made me do it… I can barely remember doing it._' She looked up to Gibbs, where he had been leaning against the boat, but he was no longer calmly standing there. His gut said something was wrong.  
With new tears in her eyes she muttered the next sentences, quickly, too quick, '_I do not know what to do anymore… I can not do this anymore…I can not live with this…_' He had started moving just a second too late. Putting the razor to her arm, she pushed it down her wrist. Cursing himself he rushed over to her.

His second mistake, and again she ended up in the hospital. First he let her destroy herself, for a whole year! And now he had made her crash down again. Why?

He knew they should have stopped after she told him about Somalia. It was clear she had to talk about that, but the cutting… She should not have told him that today. It clearly was too much. And why did Tony have to come in? It set him off guard. Why did he not make her stop then? He had to admit to himself he had been curious, but still… He should not have let her go on.

Somehow she did not resist when he had taken her to the hospital, she had used up all her energy by telling the last part. She felt ashamed, she knew from the moment she started talking after Tony had left, that it was too much. As much as she feared she could not have told him later, she should have done that. But hearing Tony come in, it broke down every wall she had built up to protect herself. She knew he had seen how vulnerable she was, how weak. Somehow, it made her feel as if she had to explain the cutting to Gibbs, right there, at that moment. She had thought wrongly.

When he walked into the ER room, she lay silently on the bed. Her wrist neatly stitched and bandaged. A single tear on her cheek, and for the first time a tear escaped from his eye.  
'_I am sorry, Ziva._' He sighed.  
'_Apologies are a sign of weakness._' She shot him a slight, nearly shy smile.  
'_Not between friends.'_ His silence let more tears escape from her eyes.  
'_Come on, the doctor said I could take you home. Where do I take you?_'  
'_Your place, for now, as you are going to make sure that I am save from now on._'  
Helping her up, he muttered, '_You bet I will._'.


	7. Peace for all

Title: Death Running Through Your Veins

Disclaimer: I own NCIS... Yeah right, would be nice if I could put that above my stories, don't you think?

Summary: Ziva has returned to NCIS and everything should be back to normal… The reality is that nothing is as it was.

Warnings: Deals with self harm/cutting.

**Chapter seven: Peace for all**

'_You are leaving._' He sounded just the slightest bit surprised. That she would leave eventually was not so strange, he just did not expect her to leave today. She must have started packing when she left NCIS a few hours before him, this morning she had not yet started.  
'_Yes, I am going home. I think I will be alright now._' She sounded sure of her own words and he knew they were true.

When he had taken her home from the hospital they had decided that she would move in with him for a while. It seemed the best solution, as she felt more secure of herself with someone around.

But when he said she could not go to work the next day she ignored him for the rest of that week. She understood his point, but that did not make her accept it with a sign of resistance.

Every night she would sit at the top of the stairs of the basement; she would not say anything, just watched him. The third night he mentioned her down: you do not need to talk when you are sanding a boat, you are just to listen and look how to do it. She would help him sand his boat, in silence.

She knew he was watching her. He watched her sand the boat, as he would do the same. Once he just stood in the doorway when he got home. How long she did not know, she knew he was there, but kept on sanding.

She felt bad about what she was doing to him. He took her in , let her stay at his house, took care of her and she ignored him. It made her feel guilty; and she only knew one way to let that guilt out of her head. He saw the blood on her sleeve when he returned from work that day.  
'_Ziva, you know why you are staying here.'_ She looked at him from the other side of the boat. She nodded.  
'_Then talk._'  
'_I felt guilty not talking to you._' Her voice was raspy from not using it.  
'_You stay here, so you can talk to someone. Eventually that will make you feel better. You know that right?'_ He looked at her. She swallowed and went back to the sanding.

From that moment she talked. Whenever she felt bad, they would sit down and talk. It relieved her, as she never realized how good it felt when you do not keep secrets, but share them. He understood why she actually did not want to talk about it. Somalia had truly been horrific, the more he knew, the less he wanted to know. Being able to forget completely would probably be better than having to life with it, but there was nothing to choose. She went through it, she survived and she would have to life with it. And talking about it was the way to do that.

When she started talking to him again, he soon aloud her to go back to work again.

Talking and working, things going back to normal: slowly the look in her eyes changed. From haunted it went to peaceful control, like it had been before.

At first he did not dare ask, but after a few weeks she confirmed his thoughts. Cutting was no longer the only way to deal with her memories. She had excepted them and could put them away when it bothered her. She could not promise to never do it again, but she could say she would try and that is what she did.

At work the change in Ziva was just as good, DiNozzo for once being smart and never bringing up that night in the basement certainly helped. When she started working again, the two of them teasing around and bugging McGee quickly resumed. Everyone noted the change: of course Ducky and Abby noticed immediately, but it was so clear that even McGee and DiNozzo saw it too.

Only, opposite to Ducky and Abby, they did not dare to say it out loud, as Ziva's old spirit coming back also meant she was a dangerous Crazy Ninja Chick again.  
Seeing things go back to normal calmed Gibbs, this was his team, the way it was supposed to be.

When they got home from work, they would sand the boat. Some times in silence, some times talking. Seeing her calmly work his boat made him smile, she was going to be alright. All she needed was time.

She had been staying at his house for three months when he found her bag all packed in the hallway, the moment he came through the door.

'_Your leaving_.'  
'_Yes, I am going home. I think I will be alright now_.' A smile was on her lips.  
'_I am sure you will be_.' He looked into her eyes. The smile had not reached them, there was some fear in her look.  
'_My door is always open if you need to talk. Never doubt that_.' The fear disappeared and he smiled too when he embraced her. He never thought he would ever have his old Ziver back. But he had. Maybe everything was, finally, back to normal.

A/N: I hope you liked my story. I would love to know when you did: REVIEW! You will make my day.


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